Counter Guardian
by Dark Purple Insanity
Summary: When Shepard was young, he made a mistake. (The thing about being a Guardian, was that all of humanity was on your side, even if they didn't know it)
1. Chapter 1

When Shepard was Twenty-Two, he made a mistake.

And it _was_ a mistake, regardless of how much it was necessary at the time. Regardless of how much he regretted it and how well he knew that, if he were able to turn back the clock and stand there again, he would make the same exact mistake, every single time.

He was young, and foolish, and idealistic. He was ruthless and patriotic and, truthfully, a little insane. He was perfect, the perfect pawn and the most dangerous enemy. If he were to make it to adulthood, he would undoubtably become a hero, a paragon of humanity, and one who would join the ranks of those who made their mark on history.

_If_.

Now he is laying on the rubble of a destroyed building on Elysium, four eyed aliens hurting and pillaging and _enslaving and destroying—_

He takes a breath, wondering if it would be his last, a wet cough escaping his lips, and a hand clutching at his bloody chest. He is dying, and everyone is dying, and it is just _ so goddamn unfair—_

He blinks, and reality shifts, and in front of him is a goddess.

She offers him a deal.

And, like a fool, he accepts.

**-(-)-**

They call him a hero. A one-man army that saved countless lives on Elysium. They sing his praises, and erect statues, and give him the greatest awards a soldier can receive.

Not long after, they call him a villain. A cruel man, who used humans like pawns and slaughtered innocents. They spit on his name and tear down his statues.

He finds it curious and strange how quickly their views shift, how fast they are to call him a hero and a villain in the same breath. Some say he has gone insane, that Elysium broke him. They aren't right, but they aren't completely wrong either.

They send him to therapy, and then he is taken out, as the therapists find nothing wrong. He is not psychotic or broken or any form of insane. And then they send him back, and he is released again. And again, and again, desperate to find _something_, for something to come up and prove that he is twisted and tortured, so they can prop him up as a fallen hero, taking him off of active service and letting him fade away, a local legend that never really got anywhere.

He doesn't, of course. _She_ wouldn't have chosen a madman as her champion, as her guardian, and no matter how tedious and annoying and terrifyingly accurate it gets, he takes to heart his new duty, his new job as humanity's protector, and doesn't allow himself to break.

Eventually they give up, handing his psychological reports off to the ship's medic and letting him return to active service full time.

**-(-)-**

He has a perfect service record, as if he would let himself have anything less, and soon enough he finds himself a Commander of a ship and a Spectre for the Citadel.

He finds that he can't bring himself to care about the Spectre assignment, about being under the thumb of an alien government.

Still, it is good that he now has free reign over the galaxy, immune to any law so long as he can justify his actions. It will definitely help him in hunting down Saren.

There are many things that happen in his journey, many twists and turns and annoying plant creatures, but what he feels is most surprising are the aliens.

He was not xenophobic, despite what the media liked to make out, but he also wasn't exactly the biggest fan of aliens either. He was a champion of _humanity_, a guardian of _humanity_, and before that aliens had only been involved in that deal when he had to kill them. As such, why should he care about them?

But it is when he is staring down the enraged Krogan, talking Wrex down before either of them make a mistake they would regret, that he realizes that he doesn't want these aliens to die. That he wants to keep Wrex and Liara and Tali and Garrus alive and his mind nearly breaks then and there as he realizes that guardian of humanity does not equal enemy of everything else.

So when he tells Wrex that he will do everything in his power to undo the Genophage, he is surprised to find himself telling the truth.

**-(-)-**

He is dying, again.

His suit is pierced, leaking air, and he finds himself drifting closer and closer to the planet behind him. Above (beside? Near? Directions are so very confusing in space) is the remnants of the Normandy, torn apart from the alien craft.

He will not die, though. Not permanently. He will die and then he will live again, an eternal guardian angel of humanity, protecting it from those that would harm it. He would live again, forever.

None of that crosses his mind, panicking and screaming and shuddering. The only thing that repeats in his mind is—

_I don't want to die!_

Unfortunately, the world isn't as kind a second time, and in the black void of space, Commander John Shepard dies.

**-(-)-**

He wonders if he should have questioned, more, when the world offered him a deal. If he should have asked what he would be doing as guardian of humanity, what he would be doing as a Counter Guardian.

_A dozen people die, their corpses fall in front of him as he guns them down, slaver and slave alike. They don't fight back, not after they see their bullets bounce off his skin, the mortal weapons unable to harm him. He chases after them, his immortal body faster than even the biotics can warp away._

It's not that he didn't understand he would have to kill people. He was a soldier, and before that a street urchin gang member. There wasn't any point in his life that he believed he could get away from the death and violence.

_A young girl can't even cry before the bullet pierces through her head, the girl who had been enslaved not a month ago cut down by Counter Guardian SHEPARD._

But, still, even if he had never been overly concerned with killing enemies before…

_He stepped over more bodies, his own feet careless of how they squished beneath his boots._

It hurt a lot more than he thought it would.

**-(-)-**

He met his coworkers, occasionally, the others who had accepted their own deal with the world.

He met EMIYA, a grouchy old man who seemed to both hate and resign himself to his duties with equal measure, and yet was the most talkative of them all.

He met KIRITSUGU, a silent man(?) who never spoke, to the point SHEPARD wondered if the man had long since broken. He didn't dwell on that, much, because he feared that he might one day be the same.

He met OKITA, a tired woman who always seemed to be sleeping, before jerking awake once she realized she was being watched.

He met ARC, the most hopeful woman he had ever met, who still tried to be a hero even with the grisly nature of their existence. (They were like white blood cells, EMIYA had once argued, beings which existed only to purge harmful bacteria, but with no way to tell the good from the bad. There was no room for 'Heroism' in such a line of work).

He met ALTER, who reminded him of a broken and run down EMIYA, and who seemed to take a bit too much pleasure in his job.

And he met PENDRAGON, a truly broken woman, who spent most of her time leaning on EMIYA in his world, as if his presence was the only thing left that gave her comfort.

There were seven of them in this reality, he had been told, seven GUARDIANs and seven BEASTs. It was an unspoken rule, between Gaia and Alaya. Anymore would risk destroying the world they attempted to save.

Still, the conflict between Humanity and the Earth (which, while not something he expected, wasn't to terribly surprising either), had long simmered down to a cold war as humanity began taking better care of their planet, and the world in kind stopped trying to obliterate them.

(He was incredibly glad for this. While he did find apostle hunts the most pleasing part of his job, he had no desire to battle a BEAST any time soon).

**-(-)-**

SHEPARD found himself on a small human colony, slaughtering some of the ugliest aliens he had ever laid eyes on. And he had led a team with a _Krogan_.

Oh, he was pretty sure they were the Collectors, though he wasn't certain about that. He had never seen a Collector, after all, but he felt it was a fair assumption. Another him was purging a slaver's den across the galaxy, while another him was burning through the Shadow Broker's contacts, searching for the illusive alien.

Alaya had gotten a lot more active, recently, and that worried him. It worried all of them.

Somewhere (32 meters at 42 degrees from his front) was ARC, protecting the frozen humans from the bug-like aliens, while he slaughtered them by the dozens.

He turned his rifle to the ship, the weapon a pseudo-Noble Phantasm in its own right, and fired. The ship was gone before the bullet reached, leaving the planet with enough force to glass the colony if ARC hadn't raised her flag.

He knew that would happen. No matter how many times they reset, retried, and tried on a different colony, they could never destroy the ship. The moment they showed up it already began to leave, abandoning its Collectors on the planet below, and if they tried to get there early and wait for it, it wouldn't even land in the first place.

It was as if they were aware of the GUARDIAN's existence, and went out of their way to avoid it.

And he pondered that, even as he set off the colony's distress beacon, and ARC and SHEPARD were returned to the Throne.

**-(-)-**

Alaya used each GUARDIAN in a different way, depending on the situation. It was rare for her to need to summon more than one at a time, and even rarer to have to pull from other worlds to fight any threat. So hypothetically speaking, each different GUARDIAN was used against different threats.

SHEPARD was used mostly against aliens, deploying during and after the First Contact War. Alaya was humanity, all of it, from the worst to the best. It knew everything and was, in a sense, omnipotent. Sort of. It knew everything a human knew, but if no humans knew about it, then it could not plan against it. Humanity barely knew anything about the TYPES, which was an endless blind spot, but at least SHEPARD was good to counter the more modern, weaker aliens.

PENDRAGON was a panic button, more or less. She was only deployed when pure destruction was needed, to blow something away in an instant. There was nothing righteous about her use, and the [DATA CORRUPTED] King knew that well.

KIRITSUGU was an assassin. He was mostly used against a single person. A genocidal maniac, a too corrupt politician, an average joe who might become president and nuke a foreign country. He killed them swiftly and efficiently and moved on to the next job.

ARC was used for protection, which was probably how she could keep smiling. She raised her flag to protect the important people, those who _absolutely could not die_, and kept them alive, even if they didn't know it. Apparently, her flag had protected him until it couldn't anymore, when he suffocated in the empty void.

OKITA was used as a scout, finding problems Alaya didn't know of and assessing its strength. If it was too strong for her or couldn't be beaten by brute force, the timeline was reset, and a more appropriate GUARDIAN would be sent.

EMIYA and ALTER were more general use, killing everyone and everything Alaya thought needed killing. EMIYA had apparently been remembered as Mt. Vesuvius when he destroyed Pompeii, and ALTER had ended the Bronze Age before humanity could kill Gaia early.

(Still, even with their different uses and ideals, he found it somewhat funny all of the Guardians wore the same color scheme. Black and red, the colors of humanity's guardians. EMIYA hadn't found it nearly as funny, but he was generally considered to be a wet blanket amongst wet blankets, so his opinion didn't count.)

**-(-)-**

SHEPARD shuddered, his eyes snapping open as he was knocked out of his brooding. (All Counter Guardians brooded; it was essentially their national pastime). He was laying on the blank screen of the galaxy map on the deck of the empty Normandy, the world created by his conscious for him to reside in.

It felt like he was being summoned. But… _not_. A summoning was quick, instant even, and efficient. This was long, and drawn out, and honestly rather painful.

So, this was not a summoning. But what else could it be?

Alaya was possessive of her GUARDIANs. There was no retirement, and no being could steal one without facing the wrath of all the others.

So, what was this?

It turned out he had quite a while to wonder, as the 'summoning' continued, dragging on so long that even his messed-up timeframe understood it had been a very long time.

And then the pain increased ten-fold, and Alaya was in front of him, her tendrils digging into him.

But he did not feel rage or possessiveness from the World. No, he only felt smug satisfaction, as if a hundred thousand years of planning had just paid off.

And then the summoning completed, and SHEPARD knew no more.

**-(-)-**

John Shepard gasped, waking up as if from a fever dream, his body covered in sweat and his mind everywhere at once.

And even as he was once more sedated and blacked out, Alaya's smug satisfaction echoed through him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was strange, being alive again.

As a Counter Guardian, he was perpetually connected to the network that comprised humanity's hivemind. It was a constant influx of thought and idea that spanned the multiverse, so massive anyone (except apparently some weirdo named Zelretch) would go utterly insane trying to make sense of it. Luckily, as a Counter Guardian, Alaya shuffled through all the data for him, giving him what was relevant and letting the rest flow by.

Now, that didn't necessarily mean he had been suddenly disconnected. It was still all there, flowing through his mind, just… well… _further away_. It was still there, but it was like he was listening to it from the other end of a tunnel, rather than how he used to have it blasting through his headphones.

The second strange thing was now that he was alive again, his body was _also_ alive. After spending (what? An eternity?) as a nigh immortal Servant, suddenly becoming human again was a terrifyingly humble experience.

Though, that wasn't to say he was suddenly crippled, considering he had been having this existential crisis while tearing apart the enemy mechs with his bare hands.

A combination of Alaya's Miracles and whatever the Hell Cerberus did to bring him back from the dead had given him what he would classify as D-ranked strength, which probably made him the strongest mortal human in the world.

Now, the reason he was tearing the robot's apart with his bare hands was because Cerberus apparently didn't keep powerful guns on their research station (AKA a rife, which was a reasonable if not stupid decision), and he could charge down their toothpick thin robots faster than he could use a pistol to burn down their shields.

Apparently, Mass Effect shielding meant people didn't build robots like they used to, and considering he had needed to destroy _many_ more destructive robots in both his time killing Geth and as a Space Age Counter Guardian, he was both relived and disappointed that this was the best Cerberus could muster up.

"How are you doing, Jacob?" Shepard asked, tearing off another robot's arm and using it to 'brain' the next one.

"Honestly, sir?" the man replied from where he was taking cover behind a pile of robot corpses, "I'm feeling kind of useless. I mean, I'm glad this is easy enough for you that I'm useless, but I feel pretty bad making a dead man do all the work."

"Huh, I suppose I am hogging up all the glory," Shepard mused, tearing the head off another Mech (and who put the core possessor in the _head_, honestly). Looking around and noticing that there weren't any robots left that could do much more than twitch, he nodded, coming to a decision.

"All right. Jacob, you can take out the next room yourself," he told the ex-marine, patting the man's shoulder.

"Wait, what? You're not going to help? _At all_?"

"Of course not," Shepard scoffed, shaking his head. "How would you learn to better yourself if you never get any field action? I led a _team_; I was a _commander_. I didn't charge in gung-ho killing everything in sight. That's what Wrex was for."

"I guess that makes sense," the man nodded, probably convincing himself that Shepard would save him if things got too dicey.

(He wouldn't. The man may not have realized it, but he was currently under assessment to see whether or not he would be a solid addition to Shepard's new team. And while Jacob had the whole 'escaped together from a hostile research center' thing going for him, if he didn't have the skills to back that up, he would be dropped.)

**-(-)-**

Luckily for Jacob, he was actually extremely skilled.

Biotic pull against one mech to shield against the other mech's fire, then launch the 'corpse' at the enemy and fire while its distracted. Rinse, repeat, and take cover when there isn't enough time for a shield. The man was efficient in a way that reminded him of Garrus and KIRITSUGU. No wasted movement, no flashy attacks, just pure, solid combat.

"Not bad," Shepard nodded at Jacob once the last mech was destroyed. "Take a breather, there'll be more in the next room, and I want you in top shape for each battle."

"Got it—wait, how do you know where the mechs are?"

"Jacob, I've been a soldier a long time, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that there are _always_ more enemies."

**-(-)-**

Actually, there weren't any (working) mechs in the next room, just a woman wearing the most impractical combat suit since OKITA's boob window.

"Jacob, have you seen Wilson?!" the woman snapped, looking ten types of unholy pissed.

"No, ma'am!" he snapped up in salute before almost instantly relaxing. "I imagine he didn't make it, though. Everyone we came across was dead or dying, as morbid as that is. Why do you ask?"

"Because," her face morphed into a mask of cold calm as she lowered her gun, "I am going to kill that traitor the first chance I get."

"Wait, _trai—_"

"No time for that now," she cut him off, before turning to the newly resurrected Commander. "Shepard. Why are you naked."

The man blinked, nonplussed. "I haven't been able to find any clothes, and I'm not about to defile a corpse just to steal some pants."

Her eyebrow twitched; an expression so minute he almost wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't spent the last (eternity) around near-emotionless mass-murders. "Your armor was in the locker next to your bed."

Shepard crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I don't see how I could have possibly known that. And besides, if we apparently don't have time to discuss a traitor in your midst, then why are you so concerned about my state of dress?"

Her eyebrow twitched again, but she let the conversation drop, instead gesturing for the two of them to follow her into the hanger.

(Still, he admired her composure. The last time he had come off a battlefield nearly naked, the only one who hadn't stared was Wrex)

**-(-)-**

Almost immediately after getting onto the ship he was given pants, and then he was given a mission by the so called 'Illusive Man' [Jack Harper] to go to Freedom's Progress, one of the Human colonies that had apparently been attacked by the Collectors (he knew it was the Collectors) not an hour ago. Still…

"How did they just _destroy_ an entire colony like that? Nearly a million people dead, and it just happened that quickly?"

That didn't make sense. He knew the Collectors attacked Human colonies—he had spent hundreds of timelines defending the same colony over and over and over again in a vain attempt to capture or destroy the ship. He had it down to a science so how the _Hell_—

"We aren't entirely sure, though we expected it to happen eventually," Miranda told him as he burned through the report. "Humanity has been under constant attack by the Collectors for the two years you've been gone, but similarly we have also apparently been defended by some shadow organization. Nobody knows where they come from or where they go, just that they protect the colonies, and no one can figure out what they look like or even how they fight off the Collectors. It's sent the Alliance into quite the tizzy."

[Cerberus fears them. Wants to know if you know anything about them. Doesn't believe you do.]

"Still, you say these guardians just, what, didn't show u—"

[Kill one to save ten Kill ten to save one hundred Kill on hundred to save one thousand Kill one thousand to save one million Kill one million to save one billion]

"Damn it!" he hissed, angrily shutting off his omni-tool, standing up and pacing furiously, not for the first time hating his job. "How fast can we get to Freedom's Progress?"

"We'll take two more hours to get there at the earliest," Miranda soothed him, perhaps actually sympathizing with him, perhaps understanding she was in the same room as a very angry man that could tear mechs apart with his bare hands. [Both]

A part of him wanted to turn Alaya off, to not be able to know all the thoughts and motivations of everyone around him, but the ruthless part of him reminded him that, while currently friendly, this was easily a potential hostile situation, and having an archive of every thought ever made by a human hooked up to his brain was the most useful tool in his possession if this went hot.

[Is disappointed you are no longer naked]

That didn't mean he needed to know everything, though.

**-(-)-**

Freedom's progress was a ghost town, inhabited only by murderous robots that Shepard easily destroyed with his newly acquired rifle. It also, apparently, had Quarians.

"Tali!" he exclaimed happily, wrapping his old friend in as tight a hug he could give without crushing her very fragile body.

"Shepard?" she whispered back, sounding as if she had just seen a ghost (Ha). "You're alive? You're _here_?! What are you—No, if you were alive, of course you'd be—_is that Cerberus?"_

"Put her down, terrorist!" one of the other Quarians hissed holding a gun up to him (with Shepard's new subordinates following in kind).

"Shepard," Tali stated firmly from where she was still in his arms, a foot off the ground, "If that is you, then you should be able to answer these three questions. First, where were you born? Second, where and why were you naked with Benezia?" someone made a choking noise, though he couldn't tell who, "And third, why are you working for Cerberus?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, instantly understanding what she was playing at. "Honestly Tali, you should know better than to ask where I was born. I didn't even know what city I was living in till I was twelve. How the hell would I know where I was born. As for the second question, it was in our battle with her in Noveria, my shields had been destroyed by Rachni acid right before it, which also dissolved most of my armor. I decided against getting a new set, as that might have taken to long. In fact, I specifically remember telling you and Liara that if I was going to fight, I would do it as my ancestors did; butt naked and screaming bloody murder. Neither of you would look me in the eye for a week after that. And, finally, I'm not working for Cerberus, they're obviously working for me."

The Quarian in his arms snorted. "Yeah, you're Shepard alright. Now, do you mind putting me down? We're on a bit of a time crunch."

"Fine, fine," he sighed overdramatically, gently setting the much smaller (actually not as small; had she grown?) Quarian on the ground. "So, what do you need help with?"

"We're looking to recover a Quarian, Veetor, who was on pilgrimage in this colony. He sent out a distress signal a couple hours ago, and we were the closest able to respond."

"Wait," Tali's lackey Quarian (Tali had a _lackey_ holy shit he was so proud) butted in, having not lowered his gun, "Are you actually suggesting we work with terrorists?!"

"No, Prazza," Tali soothed her lackey, "We aren't working with a terrorist organization; we are working with Commander Shepard who has happened to have taken over a terrorist organization."

Miranda made an affronted noise behind him, but luckily it was quiet enough he didn't think anyone else heard.

"So, you need me to take out the Mechs, then, while your group goes around and rescues your missing pilgrim, right?" Shepard asked, bringing the conversation back on track.

"Shepard," Miranda hissed from behind him, "the Quarian might have valuable data on the missing—"

"Which Tali with be happy enough to share with us after this rescue mission is over," he cut her off. "After all, we're all on the same side, aren't we?"

Her eyebrow barely twitched, but it was enough to know he had [pissed her off]. Oh well, it wasn't like she was a permanent addition yet anyway.

"Good. Tali, I'll see you again when every enemy in a ten-mile radius is dead—er, disabled."

**-(-)-**

Shepard dug through the remains of the Loki mechs, salvaging what he felt was useful as Miranda read over the data Veetor had gathered on the Collectors. It wasn't like he needed to see it, as all the information that entered her mind eventually made its way to his. Tali had apparently needed to return to the Migrant Fleet, and as disappointing as that was, he had managed to wrangle a promise out of her to meet up again later. It wasn't like it would be hard, considering he technically didn't exist. Or maybe that would make it harder. Who knows.

"Shepard, how certain are you that the Quarians didn't deceive us?" Miranda asked, not looking up from her omnitool. A bit away, Jacob was guarding the shuttle as it waited for him to finish salvaging.

"Absolutely, why?" he replied, using the butt of his rifle to knock off one of the guns. (You could never have too many guns, and at the very least if you took all the guns then that means there's one less gun in the world for your enemy to use.)

"In the video there is a ten-minute interval at the end of the attack that is completely corrupted, to the point it almost crashed my omnitool trying to watch it."

He got up, wiping his hands on his armor. "Here, let me see," he told her, more for appearances sake than anything. The information was already downloading into his mind.

Looking over her omnitool, he watched the entire attack through the blurry security feed, [Humanity's] memories laid over it. The entire attack lasted exactly fourty-two minutes, (terrifyingly efficient), and finally ended with—

He froze, years of training allowing him to stop himself from showing any reaction. While Miranda's omnitool glitched out into static, the overlaid vision only he could see showed a man with dark skin and white hair suddenly appear from nowhere in front of Veetor's hiding place, twin pistols raised and slaughtering any Collector that crossed his path.

But it was too late to save the colony. The last of the humans were already being loaded onto the ship, and any Collectors remaining on the ground were just unfortunate casualties. The ship took off, leaving the remaining Collectors to die, their bodies dissolving to a state that looked disturbingly like a dead human.

But the GUARDIAN didn't shoot at the ship, never even glanced at it until it was already a speck in the sky, and only then shot off a few bullets that any marksman could tell was never meant to really hit.

And then the man was gone, and the static ended, returning to the normal security camera.

He let out a breath, wondering _why_. Why would ALTER only come at the end, when the attack was already over? When there was no one left to save?

[Kill one million to save one billion]

Of course. A distraction.

The Counter Guardians had showed up to stop every Collector attack so far, all of them without fail. But obviously, they weren't perfect (they weren't. They always failed to save the colony the first time, but then the timeline was aborted, and they tried again and again until they got it right) and were prone to mistakes like any other human.

And so, we were late, the one time it counted. But not showing up would be more suspicious. So, one came at the end, gave a token resistance, and the left, apparently having failed.

Apparently.

[Kill one million to save one billion]

**-(-)-**

On the Collector's shuttle, invisible and intangible, a ghost waited. Nobody knew he was there, and even if they did, there was no way to get him off. But, in the end, that was their mistake. To attack [Humanity] first was their downfall, and now bringing the _living, breathing_ bodies of his fellow humans to their home would be their annihilation.

On the Collector's shuttle, invisible and intangible, a monster waited. Stalking its prey, unaware of the fate they were going to bring onto themselves, of the horror they would soon receive. It waited, sharpening its claws and checking its guns, waiting patiently for the perfect time to strike.

On the Collector's shuttle, invisible and intangible, Emiya ALTER smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

A Counter Guardian was a God. They had access to the entirety of human knowledge, from the infinite future and the distant past, from the greatest works yet to be written to the base instincts of their primitive ancestors. They were immortal, existing outside of Time and Space, unkillable so long as [Humanity] existed somewhere out in the multiverse.

A Counter Guardian was a Slave. They had no free will, their body a tool for their Contractor to use and abuse as she saw fit. They had access to the entirety of human knowledge, from the rapists to the murderers to the insane, seeing every thought and every action they took, unable to do anything to stop them. After all, one human dead or traumatized didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. And while the Counter Guardians were much more active in the modern day, it didn't change the fact that for every million they killed, a billion more who weren't important enough in the grand scheme got to walk away scotch free.

It meant that it was rare for a Counter Guardian to get a job they enjoyed. And while Emiya ALTER may have been a monster, it didn't mean he found pleasure in his job.

It was work, there was no joy nor sorrow to be gotten from it.

Still, as the Collector's shuttle exited the Omega Relay, ALTER couldn't help but smile as he stared out at the Collector's base, for once happy with his mission.

**-(-)-**

Shepard had to admit he was leery of working with Cerberus. The criminal organization had killed and experimented and destroyed _so much_, and at this point, as he dug deeper through the Akashic Records, he had to wonder how they had not yet gained the unwanted attention of a greater power.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to reject their generous offerings. The _Normandy_ #2 _and_ piloted by _Joker_? If he had been a lesser man, he may have sworn himself to Harper right then and there.

Unfortunately, all good feelings must eventually fade away, and staring down at the dossiers in front of him, he wished—not for the first time—that he had his old team back.

Oh, sure, he understood Harper's point. He even agreed with it. He needed a crack squad if he wanted to save the galaxy, and his old team just wasn't available anymore. They had all moved on, going on to bigger and better things.

(Except Liara, who was apparently working for the Shadow Broker. Seriously Liara, _what the actual fuck—)_

But regardless, Shepard was a practical man, and he understood the need to have more cards in his pocket to play than two fairly untrustworthy Cerberus agents.

And, following with the theme of practicality, it looked like if he wanted to kill two birds with one stone, he could kill a lot of birds on Omega.

**-(-)-**

Omega was the eighth most wretched hive of scum and villainy in the galaxy, and it lived up to that title well. There were no laws, which incidentally meant it also had the lowest crime rate in the galaxy. Technically. You couldn't break a law if there were no laws.

However, just because there weren't laws didn't mean there weren't rules. And one of the most important rules currently governing Omega was, "Don't Fuck with Aria."

And while Shepard didn't particularly care about pissing off another crime lord, Aria wasn't human, so he couldn't just steal whatever information he wanted from her mind. Which meant, instead of just ignoring and/or deposing her, he instead had to actually _talk_ to her.

"I'm trying to track down Archangel, what can you tell me about him?" he asked, lounging on one of her—admittedly comfortable—couches.

"What, you want him dead too?" she scoffed. "The idiot's down in the Kima District, if he hasn't been dealt with already."

"Why would people want him dead?"

"Archangel's idealistic. He thinks he's fighting for good, for '_justice_'. All he's managed to do is piss everyone off. He's got all three of the major gangs here gunning for him, and that's not even counting all the minor ones."

"Heh, he sounds perfect. If he isn't dead yet he'll fit right in. I'm also looking for a Salarian doctor, Mordin Solus. I hope he isn't in as life-threatening of a situation."

"In a way," she shrugged. "But I doubt he'll die. He's down in the slums, working to cure some new plague that's popped up. I don't doubt he'll succeed, too. Fuck, the 'good' doctor's probably found a cure for death by now. I doubt anyone who's still alive down there would try to kill him."

"Well, that looks like it simplifies things," Shepard nodded, getting up. "I'm off to go save Archangel. You need anything while I'm there?"

"Trying to get in good with Omega, Shepard?" the Asari asked, raising one of her stenciled eyebrows.

"I don't want to make two trips." He wasn't kidding about that, either. The worst thing in the world was going somewhere and completing a mission before being told to go back there _again_ because some higher-up forgot to tell you to pick up a gun stash.

She snorted, and then told him to get her a data pad, because of course she needed something. _Everyone_ needed something.

**-(-)-**

As Shepard walked back out of Aria's Bar, he nearly missed a step as information flooded into his mind.

[EMIYA. Twenty meters and twelve degrees from the front. Wishes to meet in person]

That… that wasn't normal. They were Counter Guardians, beings directly connected mentally and spiritually through Humanity's hivemind. On a mission (and this _was _a mission, even if it occasionally felt more like a vacation) there was no reason for them to need to meet in person, unless there was a threat that required multiple Guardians to deal with.

And wasn't that a pleasant thought.

"You two, go on ahead and wait outside for a bit," he told his two new lackeys. "I have some business I need to take care of."

Miranda, paranoid as a Cerberus agent, narrowed her eyes at him. "And what business, may I ask, does a dead man have on one of the most lawless places in the galaxy?"

"It's called Serrice Ice Brandy and getting ready to drown my sorrows."

Miranda looked like she was about to insist she come anyway, but then Jacob grabbed her arm.

"Come on, Miranda, let the Commander have his drink. He deserves some privacy, wouldn't you say?"

See, _Jacob_ understood that he should listen when his betters give him a command. Granted, it was a pretty dumb idea to leave him alone with alcohol, as any of his old crew would have forced themselves along regardless, but they were all busybodies anyway and he was going to savor this privacy while he had the chance.

Walking towards his _coworker_, he noticed that for once EMIYA wasn't in his armor. The man had his hair forward instead of back, and he was dressed in a black dress shirt and slacks that Shepard was pretty sure went out of style a century ago.

"EMIYA," he nodded taking the bar stool next to him, "Please tell me it isn't as bad as I think."

The man snorted, shaking his head. "Don't worry, SHEPARD, this isn't a work-related problem. I'm just a mailman right now. Here," he said, holding out a hand that hadn't had anything in it before.

What was in his hands now was a gun. More specifically, _SHEPARD's_ gun. A sniper rifle that he had named _Black Widow_ was originally a Geth invention (that he had stolen from one of their mobile platforms), a mass effect railgun designed for taking out tanks, and with a recoil so powerful it would dislocate—if not completely tear off—the am of any squishy organic that tried to shoot it.

It also no longer existed, having been destroyed along with the Normandy.

What sat in front of him was a pseudo-Noble Phantasm, a weapon that had never reached the divine status to be irremovable from the legend of Commander John Shepard, but was still his most used weapon and the one he had on him when he died. It used the original style of gun that overheated after a couple shots, rather than the thermal clips that everyone seemed to be using nowadays (and really, whose bright idea was that?), but now that it was made of ether and legends it no longer had to cool down between shots, which arguably was more important than the fact it's damage output had been upgraded. Realistically, it probably only ranked around D, maybe C rank when compared to a real Noble Phantasm, but considering PENDRAGON's Excalibur and ARC's Luminosite Eternelle, he felt that was a pretty damn good comparison for a (robot) made gun.

However, when he had reincarnated (revived? Was he undead?) back onto the mortal plain, he lost access to all the perks of being a Counter Guardian, which included his _Widow_, his Noble Phantasm, and his ability to move around as a spirit.

But now here was EMIYA, giving him back his old gun, no strings attached.

"EMIYA," Shepard told the man, reverently taking his gun back, "Marry me."

The man huffed out a laugh, and when Shepard blinked, he was gone.

Drama queen. At least now he wouldn't have to use those stupid thermal clips anymore.

(Thank Alaya)

**-(-)-**

It turned out that Archangel was Garrus, and Shepard couldn't have been more proud of his subordinates. Tali had lackeys, Ashley had been promoted, Liara he'd have to talk with (working for the Shadow Broker, _really?_), and now Garrus had apparently pissed off so many people he was being equated with a harbinger of salvation, destruction, and justice.

"You know, Garrus," Shepard said, his _Widow_ turning a Krogan to red paste across the bridge, "This feels just like old times."

"Ha!" the Turrian barked out, taking out two Salarians at once. "This isn't anything like the old times! Wrex isn't out there messing up our line of fire, and you still have all your clothes on!"

"None of you are ever going to let that go, are you?" Shepard sighed, turning a Vorcha into fine mist.

"…Hey," Garrus spoke up after a lull, grunting at the recoil of his rifle, "Are the new guys going to be okay down there?"

"Eh, they'll be fine," Shepard grunted, putting a gaping hole in a larger than average Loki Mech. "Jacob's a solid soldier, bit like Kaiden honestly, and with the amount Miranda brags she'd _better_ be good enough to survive down there."

"Ah," Garrus nodded sagely. "So, this is like a hazing, then."

Shepard actually stopped shooting for a moment, turning to look at his avian companion. He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, then opened it again, before tilting his head down as if to think on it more, before finally tilting back up, opening his mouth to _assure_—

"WHY THE BLOODY FUCK DOES HE HAVE A _FLAMETHROWER!?_" Miranda's enraged scream could be heard all the way up in their sniper's nest.

Shepard sighed under Garrus' smug look, before turning back to sniping mercs.

**-(-)-**

Dr. Wilson wasn't the smartest man in the world. Oh, sure, he had a PHD in medicine, but in this day and age it felt like those got handed out to anyone that asked. And either way, just because someone boosted their intelligence stat to the max didn't mean anything if they didn't focus on _wisdom_ as well.

It was Dr. Wilson's stupidity that lead him to where he was now, standing in one of the Shadow Broker's safe houses, surrounded by various armed Turians and Salarians on said Broker's payroll, questioning his life choices.

"So, that's it?" the head Turian pointed to the large freezer next to Wilson, his voice heavily distorted.

"Ah, yes," Wilson nodded rapidly, "Yes, he is. Quite the specimen. Very high quality, probably just as good as the real thing."

"_Probably_?"

"AH! Uh, I mean, yes, it is very much as good—no, better than the original!" Wilson stammered, sweat pouring down the back of his neck.

"Open it."

"Ah, open it?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Er, ah, no," Wilson _really_ wished he wasn't there right now, "It's just that, you see, he's in stasis. Kept cool, and all. Keeps him asleep and stops the elements from harming him."

The Turian's hand moved toward its gun.

"But I can open it real quick right now!" Wilson yelped, rapidly undoing all the safety latches, before finally opening the door.

Commander John Shepard's face looked back up at them, eyes shut like he was sleeping.

The Turian in charge nodded, before motioning for his subordinates to grab the freezer. "Checks out. Move it to the facility."

"Ah," Wilson spoke up again, because it bares repeating that he was not a clever man, "I'm still getting paid for this, right? Because, you know, I'm kind of out of a job with Cerberus."

"Oh, of course," the Turian said in what was a strangely kind manner.

The last thing Dr. Wilson saw was the barrel of a gun.

**-(-)-**

"Fucking _Vorcha_," Shepard hissed, picking up the one that had latched onto his back and chucked across the room. It hit a Krogan, because of _course_ there was a Krogan, in the face, which only earned it a swift death as the lumbering menace tore it in half in rage.

But back to the Vorcha. Vorcha were annoying. They weren't like a Krogan, whom you could at least have a satisfying fight with. They weren't like Asari Commandos, who you could engage in with philosophical discussion while you murdered each other. They weren't like Turians, who reminded him so much of the Roman Legions it was almost nostalgic (although that was another story). They weren't like the Salarians, in that at least you never had to deal with more than a dozen Salarians at once. And they most _certainly_ weren't like the Hanar.

No, they were disturbing, unkillable to the point of annoyance, barely capable of actual speech, and _fucking everywhere_.

And now he was fighting Vorcha with _rocket launchers_, which was arguably worse.

For a moment he wondered if he _really_ needed a doctor on his team, especially since he already had Chakwas, before his morals kicked in and he remembered that a lot of people would die if he didn't deal with this _now_.

And so he sighed, and went back to killing more Vorcha.

Because of course there were more Vorcha.

**-(-)-**

He followed the Collectors through the ship, watching them store and attach every last human to the walls of the station, working with a smooth efficiency that only a hivemind could. Every kidnapped human was grabbed, placed, and then moved onto the next one.

And in the end, that was their greatest mistake.

A Counter Guardian was a guardian of Humanity. They were employed by Humanity. If there were no humans, then a Counter Guardian could not be deployed.

A Guardian could not be deployed on Thessia or Palaven, because there were no humans there, barring the occasional tourist or politician. They could not be deployed in a slaver's den if a human was not there, slave or slaver, and they could not exist without a human nearby. A Guardian could not simply get on a ship to Palaven without getting a human to accompany it, and no human would accompany it as that would reveal the fact that Counter Guardians existed to the world.

This is what crippled the Guardians in the Space Age. One of their most powerful tools was the ability to appear anywhere, anywhen, kill their target and leave. With Humans, it is pathetically easy for a Guardian like KIRITSUGU to appear behind a man, blow his head open, and then leave for his next assignment. With Aliens, not only was their mobility hampered, but their knowledge of where the alien even was got hampered.

However, that didn't mean they hadn't learned to get around that.

Let a Batarian slaver succeed at taking a colony. Let an Asari Matriarch kidnap a political rival. Let a Turian take a war prisoner.

[Kill one million to save one billion]

And now, with 912,263 humans imprisoned within the Collector's base, ALTER could finally destroy the aliens who dared declare war on [Humanity].

Prana surged through Akasha, so much that suddenly, across the Galaxy, every human felt a little drained, as if they had suddenly lost a couple hours of sleep. The Prana flowed into ALTER, and he forged it using Magecraft long forgotten in the age of guns and space magic.

'I am, the Bone of my Sword'

Energy became a Sword, which was twisted into an Arrow, and then condensed into a Bullet. Dozens, hundreds, thousands were made, the prana flowing through them until they crackled with barely restrained power.

All of the Collectors stopped what they were doing, shuddering and shrieking as if they could feel the power surging into the station. They all twisted, homing in on the intangible Counter Guardian.

But by then it was too late.

A Gatling gun was traced into his hands, a weapon he had stolen from a certain Berserker long ago. And, as he loaded the clip, a twisted smile wormed its way onto his face.

He materialized, and then as the Collectors began firing at him from all sides, he pulled the trigger, and spoke one word.

"Caladbolg."

**-(-)-**

**Hello, all.**

**Now, these authors notes aren't going to be all that common, mostly because I don't trust myself not to spoil the story by accident. However, I felt the need to address something, and that thing being updates. Now, hold on, I'm not saying I won't be updating regularly. I will be. However, I, like a complete and utter **_**dumbass**_**, decided the perfect time to publish a new story would be right in the middle of finals week.**

**So, yeah. I will be able to write more after the 12****th**** or so, but if I don't update till then than you know why.**

**Also, while I have your attention, I'll answer a couple questions some guests asked me.**

**First, from Guest number 1, no, unfortunately Shepard doesn't have a Reality Marble. Only EMIYA and Emiya ALTER have reality marbles, as you have to be both insane and spend a lifetime's worth of research to unlock yours.**

**Second, from Guest number 2, a very relative question with whether or not Aliens have their own Counter Guardians.**

**Now, for the sake of this story, I'm going to unfortunately have to say no. At this point, most of what I have planned revolves around the Reapers as the essential 'Final Boss,' and if I gave every race a collective unconscious and Counter Guardians then the Reapers would have already been destroyed. And while it would be amazing to see the different Guardians conflict with each other, I would both have to create dozens of overpowered OCs, which people **_**hate**_**, and with the Reapers being a common enemy, they would generally work together, as survival is more important to them than politics and grudges. I will, however, say that I've thought up some Lore as to why they don't exist.**

** -Batarians; **They killed their planet, and in doing so killed their own version of Alaya. Because of that, they no longer have any Counter Guardians.

** -Krogan; **Same reason as the Batarians.

** -Quarians; **since they both no longer have a home world and have been reduced to mere millions, they no longer have enough mana in their species capable of producing a reasonably powerful Guardian.

** -Asari; **They just never developed a collective unconscious. With their early contact with Protheans, they realized early on they weren't alone, and began worshiping the Protheans along with their terrestrial goddesses, neutering their ability to form a single collective unconscious.

** -Turians; **Actually, the most likely besides humans to have a collective unconscious as well. Unfortunately, when Saren came along, the Reapers used him as a direct conduit and sneak attacked their collective unconscious when it wasn't expecting it. The Turian collective unconscious now considers this to be a lost timeline and has removed itself from here.

** -Salarians; **Their planet didn't allow them access to mana, meaning they could never actively create a collective unconscious.

**So that's that bit of Lore out of the way. I'll see you all in the next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Shepard, you do know you're now apart of a criminal organization, right?" Garrus asked as the two of them walked through the Presidium.

"No, I'm manipulating a criminal organization for my own—I mean the Citadel's—gain. Spectres have done that before, right?"

"I don't think they're going to buy that, and I really don't want to have to kill my old coworkers in the inevitable firefight."

"You worry to much, Garrus. They wouldn't deploy C-sec to deal with us. Even they aren't _that _stupid."

"I think you overestimate their competence."

"Bah!"

"Still, Shepard, I think you should have given more warning than, 'I am here on the citadel, I'd like to set up a meeting.'"

"Well, he could have," chimed in the Asian woman beside them, "But that would have given then time to prepare, and once they decide among themselves, they wouldn't even bother hearing what Shepard had to say."

"Hah! See, someone gets it!" Shepard nodded, grinning smugly.

"Shepard."

"Yes?"

"Who is that?"

Blinking, Shepard turned to look down at the hooded woman walking with them. She in turn looked back up at him, blinking in wide-eyed innocence.

"Huh," he brought a hand up to scratch his chin, "I don't rightly know."

Garrus twitched, before shaking his head and sighing. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we're talking about classified information, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Really?" she asked, tilting her head in an almost mocking manner. "It didn't sound all that classified to me."

"Hah! I like you already!" Shepard grinned at her. "Tell you what. Would you like to join me and my merry band in an adventure full of action, romance, and a desperate fight against the forces of evil?"

She gave a show of thinking it over. "Will there be snacks?" She asked seriously.

Shepard nodded solemnly. "The best snacks in the goddamned galaxy."

"Sold!"

Behind them, Garrus sighed in resignation.

**-(-)-**

KIRITSUGU grunted, and with a quick flick of his wrist cut the tear in the fabric of reality from top to bottom, binding it shut.

It had become unconscious by now, sealing the tears shut. For the past year they had been under constant attack, something corrupting a human and then using their mind as a conduit to attack the collective unconscious in its home territory.

Unfortunately for said something, one of Alaya's Counter Guardians had the inborn ability to bind any and all things together. As such, the tears that threatened Alaya never lasted longer than the time it took to summon a KIRITSUGU to deal with them. After that whichever human had been corrupted would be purged and the attacker would have to find a new human to use.

So, while _absolutely terrifying_ the first few times it had happened, the tears weren't actually threatening, and had just become annoyingly routine. And KIRITSUGU was pretty sure the attacker knew that too, as the attacks have petered down to only a couple a week, whereas before they had been coming as rapidly as every minute.

Another tear opened and, with a small groan, KIRITSUGU was summoned away to deal with it.

**-(-)-**

"Councilor Anderson, this meeting was supposed to begin ten minutes ago," Councilor Spartacus _almost_ growled.

(A Councilor must always be composed, after all.)

"And I told you that I can't control Shepard. I'm his friend and leader, not his babysitter. If he decides he's going to be late to a meeting _he called_, there's nothing I can do about it," Anderson replied, for what must have been the fifth time in as many minutes. Sighing in frustration, he barely resisted the urge to rub his forehead. He was getting far to old for Shepard's antics.

"Fou!" As if noticing his frustration, the fifth occupant of the Councilor's room hopped over to him, lightly headbutting his palm from atop his desk. Smiling in amusement, Anderson gave in to the creature's demands and started rubbing its fluffy head.

"Councilor Anderson, if I may ask, what species is that? Never seen it before," Councilor Valern asked with typical Salarian fast-talk.

"Hm? Oh, I wouldn't know. He belongs to my Aunt, you see. She just asked me to take care of him for a while. I figure he's some new species of dog they've bred up, or maybe its not native to Earth."

"Still, surely she would have—"

The door to his office suddenly slid open, revealing the Spectre they had been waiting on.

"I'm here! And I brought food!" Shepard called out, lifting up a large bag emblazoned with one of humanity's many fast food chains. Then he frowned. "Wait, you're all holograms today. Crap. Well, it's not like I had to pay for these anyway. If you want a burger just come by Anderson's office. They even had Dextro!"

Garrus, who was chewing on his own burger behind Shepard, raised his own greasy patty as if to prove he wasn't lying.

Tevos' face twisted into a grimace, all reprimands on his punctuality forgotten. "Shepard, _please_ tell me you haven't been using a made-up law to trick stores into giving Spectres free food."

"Of course not," he scoffed, "Who do I look like, Vasir? I simply sponsored them, and if part of that sponsorship deal was that they gave me free food, well, they seemed pretty happy with it."

"_Spirits,_" Spartacus buried his face into his palm, "He's _worse_ than Vasir."

"Councilors, Shepard," Anderson called out in an attempt to bring everyone back on track. "We have a meeting to attend to."

Unfortunately, this had the consequence of bringing Shepard's attention over to Anderson and, more specifically, what he was petting.

"Sir," Shepard said _calmly_. "What, the ever-loving _fuck_, are you petting."

Anderson raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Please don't curse in front of the Councilors, Shepard. And this is Fou, my aunt's pet. He's staying with me while she goes apartment hunting on the Citadel."

"_Fooouuuuu!_" Fou foued out smugly.

Shepard breathed out through clenched teeth. "_I see_." He then took a deep breath and _slowly_ forced himself to turn back to the Councilors, though anyone could see he was keeping Fou within his line of sight. "Right. Councilors. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Thoroughly confused by the exchange (though willing to brush it off because, in all honesty, Shepard wasn't even the most eccentric of their Spectres), Tevos recollected herself and began. "Shepard, it has come to our attention that you are no longer dead. While this is wonderful news, and we are grateful that you are alive, it has also come to our attention that you have recently been seen in the company of the terrorist organization Cerberus. While we do not wish to draw conclusions where there are none, we _would _like an explanation."

"Ah, that's simple enough," Shepard nodded. "I've spent the last two years in a coma, practically dead and dying. Cerberus managed to get to my body first, and for some reason decided to heal me. I've only recently regained consciousness, and as a thanks to them for bringing me back from the brink, I've only taken over their organization, rather than simply obliterate them outright."

The four Councilors nodded, as, knowing Shepard, that was much more likely than actually joining a terrorist organization.

"We understand," Tevos nodded, "But we must ask that you rebrand them. Or at least remove the Cerberus symbol from your ship. It would be bad for people to think the Citadel was working with terrorists."

"Understood, I'll get someone to paint over that ugly thing asap. Now, I've been out of the loop for a while, but what's being done about the Reaper threat?"

Suddenly, the three Council members looked much more awkward.

"Ah, yes, Reapers," Spartacus raised his hands to give air quotes, "We have dismissed that claim."

Shepard stood silent, staring at the Turian Councilor for an uncomfortably long moment. Finally, "Garrus, you can have Spartacus' burger."

The Turian behind him took a moment to process that, before shrugging and reached into the bag, eating the Councilor's burger in front of him.

"Shepard, we believe you believe the Reapers are real, but you have simply been tricked by the Geth, just as they tricked Saren before you. There is too much evidence against the existence of such beings, and too little for it. We _are_ sorry, but we won't be funding an army to chase after an illusion," Tevos explained much more diplomatically.

Still—

"Kasumi, you get Tevos' burger."

"Haha, yes!" a disembodied voice called out, before an equally disembodied arm appeared from nowhere and reached into the bag, pulling out a burger before disappearing back into nowhere. "Wha-Ack! Vegan!?"

"She's a vegetarian," Shepard explained absently, before focusing back on the Councilors. "What about the corpse? Surely you realized it wasn't of Geth make, right?"

The three Councilors suddenly looked like they had bitten into a lemon. "Unfortunately," Valern ground out, "The Geth destroyer was never found." At Shepard's incredulous look (It had been right in their laps!) he continued. "It is believed to have been stolen between the time it was destroyed and the time it took for us to re-coordinate after the attack. If not, then it must have had a terrifyingly efficient self-destruct sequence to vanish so thoroughly. I hope you understand that this is to be kept secret."

Shepard let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know what? Fine! I'll find you proof, so much _fucking_ proof that you'll have to see the truth, even if I have to drag the corpse of another Reaper here myself."

The Coucilors seemed to shrug. "Then see that you do, Spectre."

Then the holograms flickered out, ending the meeting.

"Shepard," Anderson placed a hand on his shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, I _do_ believe you, and I have been making inroads with the rest of the Alliance to better prepare them for the threat."

The Spectre sighed. "Well, at least it's something. Still, I feel like I'm forgetting—_Fou!_" he hissed, suddenly turning around.

"_Fou!_"

"I need to have some words with you, you little Beast," he growled, stomping over to the white and fluffy cat-squirrel-dog-thing.

Anderson sighed slightly, before moving towards Garrus. "Mr. Vakarian. It's good to see you again," he saluted.

"Councilor Anderson," the Turian saluted back. "It's… well, I wouldn't say its been great being back on the Citadel, but at least it's not Omega."

"…Don't show your true self either, I don't think I need to tell you that would be _bad_…" Shepard lectured Fou in the background.

"Hah. I suppose that's true, even if some days I wish I was back out there, rather than cooped up here. Still, Mr. Vakarian, I wish you luck on all your trials ahead."

"I don't need luck. I have Shepard."

Anderson put a hand on Garrus' shoulder. "That's why I'm wishing you luck."

"…and if I find out you ate even _one person_…"

**-(-)-**

**[Query]**

[My My, The Great Goddess Herself, Coming To Visit Little Old Me? I'm _Honored_]

**[Assistance]**

[Oh? With What?]

**[Assessment. Manipulation. Destruction]**

[…You Know You Can Say More Than One Word At A Time, Right?]

**[Intolerance]**

[Yeah Yeah. Don't You Have Your Own Little Minions To Deal With Your Problems]

**[Inefficient]**

[_Why_]

**[Lacking. Artificial Intelligence. Digital. Irregular. Alien]**

[So, You Have An A.I. Problem?]

**[Assistance]**

[Hmmmm….. Nah]

**[Query]**

[It's Cause You're a Bitch, See]

**[Acknowledgment. Assistance]**

[Hah… You Really Don't Know How To Take No For An Answer. That's A Pretty Big Turn Off, You Know]

**[Acknowledgment. Assistance]**

[_Why Do I Even_—Look, It's Not My Problem. Not Even My World. Why Would I Care]

**[Assistance]**

[You Aren't Going Away, Are You? …Fine, I'll Help You, But On One Condition]

**[Query]**

[I Get The Moon]

…**[Query?]**

[If You Want My Help, I Get The Moon]

**[Geiss]**

[Oh All Right, I'll Sign Your Little Geiss]

**[Thank You, You Piece Of Shit]**

[_You Could—_And You're Already Gone. Bitch]

**-(-)-**

Liara sighed, relaxing her elbows against the counter of one of Illium's many, _many_ bars. This one, , was her favorite. It had carboard food, watery wine, and barely ever had anyone in it. It was a place for her to relax without enemies or fans recognizing the Asari who saved the citadel, and now worked as the head of her own company on Illium. Even now, during the time all other bars would be filled to the brim with Illium's… _rambunctious_ nightlife, the only other customers were a Turian high as a kite in a booth and a sleeping woman sitting precariously a barstool down from her.

She ordered a water, about the only tolerable thing on the menu, and let herself drift.

Well, not completely. This _was_ Illium after all.

Still, it was nice to be able to relax, if only a little bit.

Unfortunately, her peace was interrupted as the Hanar manning the bar placed a glass of some type of wine next to the sleeping woman's head.

'_clink'_

"I'M AWAKE!" she yelped, practically jumping out of her seat.

Liara slammed her elbow against the table as old habits had her going for the gun on her waist, while the stoned Turian choked and fell over in his booth.

She gave the other woman the stink eye as she rubbed her bruised elbow, before sighing and trying to go back to her happy place.

She didn't make it five seconds before the woman interrupted her again.

"Ah, are you Liara?"

_Oh goddess, a fan_.

Trying very, _very_ hard not to sigh, Liara turned back to the woman, a false smile and an '_I'm sorry, you've got the wrong person' _already on her lips, before the woman _once again_ interrupted her.

"He wanted me to give this to you," she told the Asari, shoving a piece of paper into her hands.

Liara blinked, looking down at the crumpled paper in her hands and then back to the oblivious woman, taking a sip of whatever wine she had ordered.

"I'm sorry, who asked you to…?" she tried to ask, but the woman then started choking apparently having realized how toxic the liquid they called 'wine' here really was.

Sighing, Liara looked back down and unfolded the paper note.

'_Goddess, who even writes on paper anymore—'_

She choked, paling suddenly as she read the message written there.

Whipping her head back up she opened her mouth to demand answers, only to end up gaping like a fish because _the woman was no longer there_.

She snapped her head over to the door, wondering if somehow (she hadn't even heard her _move_) the woman had walked past her without realizing.

No one was there, the only thing remaining was the barely touched glass of wine and the strange bronze coin sitting beside it.

And, of course, the letter in her hand.

_Liara, we need to talk_

_I also have a new email, ilivedbatch sa . cer_

_-Shepard_

**-(-)-**

**So, I could give a lot of excuses for why this took so long, some of which I think are actually pretty valid. But I'll save you all that time and just say I'm sorry and that the next chapter shouldn't take as long. As an apology, have an omake. (Also, fanfiction apparently doesn't like fake emails, so if you only see ilivedbatch then that's the first part of his email, the rest didn't show up)**

**Next up, Jack meets Shepard.**

**-(-)-**

**Omake: Down Time**

"Why the hell are all of you here?" EMIYA asked, eyebrow twitching.

"Check. It's this week's annual poker game, obviously," SHEPARD told the grumbling guardian, internally frowning at his cards. Queen of hearts and ten of spades. Not a great hand, but it could get him a straight. Might as well hang in there until the betting goes up.

"Yes, but why _here_?"

'Here' was EMIYA's reality marble,

SHEPARD grunted as ARC raised, "How else are we going to get you to join us? Fold."

The (older?) man scoffed, dropping the argument. To be fair, it was more tradition by this point than anything. This was actually their 38th game. Or was it their 83rd? 380th? Counting things got weird when you existed outside time and space, more so when you were playing a poker game inside a reality marble outside of time and space.

(He wasn't joking about his reasoning, though. When he had first decided on this little get together, only ARC and OKITA had agreed. After that, he had mercilessly used ARC's disappointed-face and OKITA's puppy-eyes to force EMIYA into agreeing. After that, it was merely a matter of borrowing Enkidu to get ALTER and KIRITSUGU to join.)

"I raise two Hrunting," PENDRAGON announced, her Charisma instantly forcing all of them to look at her. She reached across from where she was sitting on EMIYA's lap (technically they were close enough for it to count as cheating, but considering they were both losing horribly he was willing to let it slide) and grabbed two of the legendary swords from her pile, chucking them into the center bets.

ARC frowned down at her cards (somehow, despite being the only one of them without a god-tier poker face, she was destroying them. _Again_), before nodding to herself. "I'll raise another Hrunting, and I'll add in a Caladbolg."

SHEPARD let out a low whistle, and even ALTER raised an eyebrow. A _Caladbolg_? That was ballsy, even for ARC.

"OKITA, you checking that?" SHEPARD asked in a tone that implied he really didn't think she should.

…

Getting no response, he sighed, leaning over to tap the woman's shoulder.

"AH! I wasn't sleeping!" she exclaimed, jolting awake.

"OKITA," he said, long used to her habit, "Check or fold?"

She blinked, before glancing down at the pile of swords. Taking a moment, she chewed on her bottom lip as she stared. He almost reached out to poke her again before she, apparently having finished mulling it over, opened her mouth to—

'_PING'_

SHEPARD groaned, even as they all shifted.

"WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING!" he shouted to the gear-filled heavens, flipping his employer the bird.

'_**PING'**_

"WE EXIST OUTSIDE OF TIME AND SPACE! CAN'T YOU GIVE US FIVE MORE MINUTES!?"

'PING'

"WH—"_sigh_"Fine, you can join. But no cheating!"

'PING'

"_Yes, clairvoyance counts as cheating_."


End file.
